


All That Glitters

by sedirktive (orphan_account)



Series: The Kingdom Come [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Military Captain!Damen, Pirate!Laurent, Political Intrigue, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6547939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sedirktive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you live long enough, you might be able to find a way to escape when we next make port,” the pirate captain said as he rose from his hunch and brushed himself off. “Live to tear your freedom from my clutching grasp. Live to earn back the respect you ask for. If you plan well enough, you might even get a head start.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

Claps hands! Okay so I feel the need to ramble a bit and explain this verse before I really launch into the storyline, just to make sure some details aren’t lost in everything that’s about to happen.

I’m drawing a lot on European history and themes, and I’ve spent a lot of time researching to make sure that things are sociopolitically solid, but of course because it is a pseudo-fantasy setting, there will be certain things that differ.

The following points are key:

  1. All That Glitters takes place in the same verse as Captive Prince. The only difference is that AtG is several centuries later. Where Captive Prince seemingly takes place in a fantasy era in a time that I interpreted around the Roman Empire (let’s say 0 BC), All That Glitters is taking place in the 1700s.  
  2. Laurent and Damen as we know them existed. They joined their kingdoms of Vere and Akielos in their union some time after the series’ end, but couldn’t stop bickering about the new country’s name, so they settled for Vere-Akielos. SMH.
  3. This is not a soul mate AU. That isn’t the focus of the story, anyways. It’s the same Laurent and Damen, and they’re probably soul mates reborn centuries later, but the focus of this story is pirates and political intrigue.
  4. Not all the characters from Captive Prince canon will exist in this verse, but I’ll definitely be kidnapping a couple! Maybe 5 or 6. We’ll see just who is who as we go.



Hope that makes sense! I sort of brought this all into existence within 48 hours of finishing reading Captive Prince and it has been one huge whirlwind adventure from there. If you have any questions, feel free to leave them in the comments. Happy reading, everyone.  ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A song to set the mood.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETNoPqYAIPI

          The inside of a holding cell, Damen thought to himself as he watched an unlit lantern swing gently overhead, was every bit as miserable as he had expected it to be. Sea salt and mildew smelled the same no matter what ship it was on, and iron bars were still very much impossible to bend. Hay, on the other hand, was unexpectedly uncomfortable, he noted as he closed his eyes. How was it that animals slept on this at night? Perhaps, he thought as his mind wandered, if given the choice, they would choose to sleep in hammocks or upon mattresses like men…? The sound of a boots scuffing about on the planks above him shook Damen from his thoughts and he was confronted yet again with reality. He hated the circumstances surrounding this, how unexpected it had all been, and how vividly the scene still played out in his mind.

           Months of training on shore and out at sea had prepared his men for many things. Still, even the strongest crew had a hard time holding against surprise attacks in the dead of night. There had been no warning, only the bang of canon fire and the subsequent crash of the starboard railing as it was taken out. Damen’s shout of “ _Pirates!_ ” echoed as the enemy vessel, a corvette, lit itself along the dark horizon. Its colors, deep red and unaffiliated with any sovereign nation, flew ominously in the breeze.

           Weighed down with more firepower and supplies, the HMS Spearhead was a large military bark that had no way to outrun the smaller boat, which had been built for speed over size. Nor did they have the time to do an about-face and take the attack head-on. There must have been much forethought put into this scenario; Damen’s men had no choice but to be boarded. To make what he could of the dilemma, Damen quickly prepared the men on deck for hand-to-hand combat on their own ship. Swords were rapidly distributed, and pistols were checked and loaded.It was a clever plot -he thought this to himself as he had barked to the approaching pirates that he was “ _Captain Damianos, servant to the crown of the Veretian-Akielon empire_ ,” and to “ _stand down in the name of my King_ ”- but not one which could hold against his soldiers, whom he had running combat drills on deck each morning.

           It came as no surprise to anyone that the pirates did not stand down.

           Despite having the advantage of numbers and skill, however, the Damen’s crew, did not seem to be easily able to take the advantage, though that may have been the heat of the moment altering his perceptions.

           The stark contrast between the hot splash of blood and the cool spray of water against his face had gone unmarked amidst the clamor of clashing swords and shouting men as the battle began to favor his side. What had gone more unmarked was the second ship that sailed up astern, and with it, a second assault upon his men. In this startling turn of events however, this new, third group turned their blades on both crews, attacking both groups who were already on the Spearhead. Chaos resounded. No amount of orders that Damen called could help turn the tide for any of his comrades, so he fought with every intention of turning it himself, if he could.

           In hindsight, he had gotten quite far with that thought, and left at least a dozen men in his bloody wake.

           He had just taken the arm off a burly pirate who reeked of months at sea when a blow to the back of the head had knocked him to his hands and knees. Dazed, Damen had struggled to regain his footing. He had been very aware of the opponent in front of him as the man prepared to behead him, but as Damen attempted to counter-maneuver, the smooth thrust of a rapier passed just above his head. The blade belonged to someone (probably Damen’s second attacker) standing at his back, and would certainly have cleanly taken off Damen’s ear had he raised his head two inches higher.

           “Oh. You’re still conscious.” He heard the words even though the battle raged around them. The rapier withdrew and the one-armed man fell from a fatal stab to the heart. “I shall hit you harder, then.”

           Unable to turn quickly enough to defend himself, Damen found himself spiraling into darkness as the blunt end of a sword hilt met his skull yet again. He had awoken to this place, gagged and bound at the wrists in an unguarded (yet incredibly secure) brig upon an unknown ship. His clothes were bloody and torn from fighting. Congealed blood at the back of his neck told him that he had been unconscious several hours. There was no way of telling which ship he was on, but judging by how empty the other cells were, he had no doubt that he was the only capture. That meant his ship was most likely raided and sunk, and he should presume his men dead.

           If it had not been for the cloth in his mouth, he would have made sure that he had gone down with his ship. Instead, unable to bite off his own tongue and sore from battle, he had lain there for several pathetic hours. And for several pathetic hours after that, he got up to pace about in his cage, occasionally kicking at the bars even though he knew they would not give. In the end, he had lain back down on the itchy pile of hay in the corner of his cell to contemplate his fate.

           The pirates most likely wanted something from him. He was still alive after all. That was the only logical conclusion he could come up with. Would it be something he could give them? Damen found himself grimacing. There were many privileges that his relatively-high military status earned him, so the real question was whether or not it would be something he would give them. Or maybe they just wanted to see him walk the plank in a hilarious display of debasement and mockery of the Crown he served under.

           He was not left long to consider these depressing options much further, however. The heavy door to the cell holdings swung open suddenly, and a gruff-looking man in a loose white shirt came strolling down the steps. Sunlight filtered in, causing Damen to blink rapidly. When the pirate stopped in front of the bars, he simply stood there, looking. Damen held his gaze, which went on unusually long, as though the man were expecting him to say something with his gag still in. “You are wanted on the deck,” the pirate said after a moment before pulling out a large iron key and unlocking the door. Damen allowed himself to be hauled up by the ropes biting his wrists and lead up the stairs to the deck.

           He was shoved to the floor by his escort as they stepped out and the salty ocean air assaulted his senses. Looking up, he took quick stock; Damen guessed that this must have been the second ship in the attack, because the beam boat was too large to be the corvette that had attacked him, and the flag waving atop the sails (which he had to squint to see) was black. The men of the ship seemed to all be gathered there in a crowd. All of them looked well-trained and strong, even with their bandages and bindings. Ex-soldiers, perhaps? That was becoming a worryingly popular route for many military men. It was entirely possible.

           Standing slightly in front of the crowd was a pirate he had only ever heard stories about.

           The Archangel of the Sea was as notorious for his beauty as he was for his wit and skill. His reputation stemmed from men and women who claimed to have seen him at port; no sailor had ever survived an encounter with him. This was a feat, considering the captain’s record for only raiding military ships, though he did not discriminate between nations apparently. _Not lacking in gold anywhere but his heart_ , claimed most. _A face like mercy_ , the men at the barracks often whispered at night, _and a tongue devastating and deadly like his sword_.

           Damen noted subconsciously that the rumors were not exaggerated. From the sharp slope of his pale nose to the shining blonde curls tied back to keep the hair out of his face in battle, he looked very much as though he had been sculpted from marble at a master’s hand and brought to life. He dressed expensively: a deep blue coat that shone faintly with bright gold embroidery hung over white gloves and a soft white shirt made of some finer material that was laced tightly up to his neck. Dark pants trimmed with more gold thread held up by a belt, and heavy-looking leather boots completed the look. In many ways, he was the picture of grace. And yet for all his poise, his blue eyes held a cooled, commanding presence that spoke sharply of a man who could not and would not be touched. These were the eyes of a man notorious for taking no prisoners in battle, and they were trained on Damen.

           The pirate captain stood with straight-backed posture and a thoughtful finger tapping gently at his own cheek before he opened his mouth to speak. “You fight like a savage who was born and raised in the roughly cobbled back alleys of the red light district.”

           Damen bristled and frowned around his gag, partly insulted and partly surprised but exactly how distasteful the choice of vocabulary was.

           “Get up,” the Archangel murmured as he drew a sword from his belt. The rapier glinted dangerously in the sun.

           Not a single crew member moved, but Damen assumed he would have no choice otherwise. The crowd was silent as he struggled to get up without the use of his arms. Once he was up, he glanced to the side of the boat, to the plank.

           “You must be thinking that I’m going to kill you like this.” The words drew his gaze back to the man in front of him. That face looked so soft, and yet his words were hard. “Or perhaps you’re thinking that a good captain must go down with his ship.” Would Damen be able to throw himself off the boat before they threw him off by force? “Don’t be ridiculous. Choosing your death wouldn’t make your life any more meaningful. If you die before you’ve accomplished anything, it is the same as dying a failure. A worthless disgrace just like the rest of them.”

           Damen straightened, teeth clenching down on his gag. The rest of them. His men, and all the good men who had fallen before them at the hands of this fair-faced snake.

           “You have the fire to fight me then? Good.”

           A raise of a gloved hand was all it took for Damen’s ropes to be sliced away and the gag to be undone.

           Damen tore the cloth from his lips and threw it overboard. “You’re smaller from this angle,” he said at he massaged his sore jaw.

           If the comment irked the Archangel, the man didn’t show it. Instead, he moved his gloved hand again, and a sword was drawn from the belts of one of the crew members and thrown at Damen’s feet with a clang.

           He picked it up warily and weighed it. Balanced and standard, with a grip that fit in his hand. A fair weapon, but not one that would be heavy enough to break that rapier. “What is stopping me from driving this sword through my stomach right now?” Damen said aloud.

           “If you have to ask me that, then you have an answer already.”

           For a moment, Damen almost sliced himself open out of spite, but meeting the man’s cold gaze, he realized (bitterly) that the pirate was right. Nothing would come of his death. His men would have died unavenged, and he would have stained the name of his King with his blood as it spilled.

           Damen set his feet in a fighting stance.

           The fight had been surprisingly engaging, despite Damen’s best efforts to balance his offense and defense at the start. His opponent was faster than he had expected, though perhaps he ought to have heeded the rumors more closely. Every step, every swing, and every strike was calculated with every intent to kill. If Damen hadn’t been a deft fighter since his youth, he certainly would have been cut open multiple times. Several feints nearly got him.

           Still, the blonde moved like an artisan with a brush - thoughtfully and with purpose. Damen had the advantage of strength and an instinct for combat that only came from practice on the battlefront. As he got used to raising his sword to defend himself, he began finding ways to counterattack, weaker points in the captain’s form that could be exploited. And it was only then that Damen began truly fighting, putting his whole body into it so suddenly that the slight shift of his opponent’s expression gave him great satisfaction.

           The rapier’s most important advantage was its length and lightness. It was dangerous to the user in the sense that it was smaller and more fragile than a regular sword. They provided less blade area to defend with, so many experienced rapier-wielders used many techniques to keep their opponents at bay. Small details like this kept Damen pressing in closer with his swings. Closer, and closer still until he quite suddenly rushed in, leading the pirate to step away quickly.

           And right into the mainmast.

           Damen closed in then, his sword meeting the thin blade that automatically raised in defense that wouldn’t hold against the force if his regular sword. He trapped the handle and knuckle guard of the rapier (and the hand holding it) between their bodies. Angling his grip, he pressed the blades until the rapier pressed lightly to its owner’s neck.

           As much as Damen wanted to kill this man though, he would certainly die at the hands of the crew thereafter. _Worthless disgrace_ , hissed a voice at the back of his mind. “Tell your men to prepare a rowboat,” he said slowly as a bead of sweat dripped down his face.

           “Are you planning to row in an aimless direction until you die in an idiotic and unplanned attempt to reach shore?” Those blue eyes fixed on his, and didn’t even blink as Damen used his strength to create an infinitesimal cut along that pale jaw. The metal pressed against the high neck of his white shirt, threatening to slice it open. A single drop of blood was drawn.

           “Yes.” Even though he said it with conviction, he felt-

           “How stupid.”

           Anger flared in him, but before he could say anything else, pain shot through his leg. Damen stumbled back instinctively, only to see a small dagger disappear back into folds of blue cloth and a white-gloved flick.

           The crew surged forward suddenly, their forgotten presence suddenly made known again as they grabbed Damen and held him down. They moved so quickly that Damen realized that he wouldn’t have been able to kill the captain even if had tried.

           “Cheater!” He howled, eyes ablaze as he struggled against the weight of several men. The wound that he had just been dealt made his thigh ache. With a lurch, he attempted to free his sword arm, which still held the sword he had been given.

           Looming over him, the pirate captain looked more like a harbinger of death than a high messenger of any holy power with his piercing gaze and firmed expression. “You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he said as he raised one foot and brought its heel down upon Damen’s hand, forcing him to release the weapon.

           To Damen’s credit, he didn’t make a sound, save his already heavy breathing.

           “Well?” He demanded as the sword was kicked away. “Get on with it.”

           He was met with silence and that flat, regarding stare.

           “Kill me already,” Damen gritted out.

           Something flashed briefly across the Archangel’s face that made him look… humored. It was unsettling, given the scenario. “Don’t belittle yourself,” the man said as he squatted down. “I don’t care to kill you right now.”

           Damen narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

           “You fight better than any of my men.” He seemed to conveniently leave out an ‘as well as me’ in that statement.

           “Clearly, I fight better your men’s captain as well,” Damen said. Again, he got no visible reaction from his prodding, but the slight pause was enough.

           “I will keep you alive so that you can duel me every night.”

           Sarcasm oozed from Damen. “Oh is that all? I’d be more concerned if I had to shine your boots.”

           “If I defeat you, then I will kill you.”

           That made Damen hesitate. Any way he looked at it, this devil of a man was not an unskilled fighter. His nimble movements betrayed cunning that could eventually overcome him one day, if he was not careful.

           “And if I kill myself?”

           “Then I will still have killed you, so to speak, but you will have died a coward, my dear captain.” The honorific sounded bitter on his tongue.

           Damen was stricken. He was not a coward, but he also had no desire to be a plaything. _Perhaps_ , he thought to himself grimly, _I am too easily influenced_.

           “If you live long enough, you might be able to find a way to escape when we next make port,” the pirate captain said as he rose from his hunch and brushed himself off. “Live to tear your freedom from my clutching grasp. Live to earn back the respect you ask for. If you plan well enough, you might even get a head start.”

          And just like that, Damen was forced to watch that golden head disappear into the great cabin, like that of a glorious beast into its den.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my friends (and enablers) Zene, Halie, and Sam for putting up with my constant mumbling and grumbling about all this.


End file.
